Eleven Minutes In Heaven
by Melonss x
Summary: The eleventh book in the Princess diaries series! Just continuing the story after the tenth book.. what does the future hold for Mia and Michael?
1. Moving in

_AN; Okay so I can totally see this going to crap and not working, but I want to try and right a fanfic for PD, so here we go (:_

_MEG CABOT OWNS AALLL _

**Tuesday, 3****rd**** July, 2p.m, Michael's – I mean **_**our**_** – apartment **

I don't think I'm ever going to get used to saying that – _our _apartment. OURS. No one else; just me and Michael.

No intruding parents bringing high school teachers back to stay the night; no annoying Grandparents who can't seem to manage to let go of a letter on the keyboard when finished typing it; no DRUMS! God, why didn't we do this earlier?

Oh right, the whole Japan-robotic-surgical-arm-break-up-JP-only-eighteen-years-old issue. Whatever.

Okay, and I guess I shouldn't really be writing this and you're probably wondering if I got mixed up with books or something, being that I was supposed to have been finished with journals forever after I graduated high school, and would instead go to college and become a successful author well-known to all the world.

Yeah, not so much.

I mean, don't get me wrong, _Ransom My Heart_, totally sold well; even Grandmere admitted that it was great publicity wise for Genovia, (_Come to Genovia, our princess writes romantic historical sex scenes!_) but it took me two whole years of hard work to write one historical romance novel – do they really expect me to write a sequel, or a whole new book, so soon?

Plus, it's not like I haven't been busy or anything; I only graduated from Sarah Lawrence a week ago, (Grandmere never quite got over the fact that I chose to go there… even when the painting of the 'buttercup yellow' walls didn't exactly go to plan. Let's just say, we haven't let Rocky near paint since) and have officially moved in to Michael's apartment.

Bringing me back to my original excitement. Me and Michael, living together! Thankfully, Boris had headed off earlier to some, uh, violin conference or something, and thanks to Michael's housekeeper's (I know, _housekeeper._ But hey, I'm not complaining - I'll never have to clean up Fat Louie's litterbox again!) over-the-top cleaning regime, there is no trace of any bad sweater and trouser ensembles to be seen anywhere!

And... THE WHOLE PLACE SMELLS JUST LIKE MICHAEL'S NECK!

I'm serious. No matter what room I go into, I'm immediately hit with the perfect fragrance that is Michael Moscovitz's neck. It's strongest in his bedroom… Oh God, I have a really bad feeling that Lars finally got sick of me, devised a way to kill me, and I am now dead and in my own personal heaven.

Or maybe I've just been inhaling so much that it's making me woozy, and I'm writing complete rubbish.

Either way, I should really go now, seeing as I had to steal this from a box labelled 'FRAGILE' (What? Journals are easily damaged. And stolen. And read. And I would just about die if that happened) and take refuge in Michael's toilet, and I don't want him to get the wrong ideas about my, ahem, lavatory needs after only an hour or so of living with him.

Plus, this toilet seat is really not that comfortable, and there is no way I am sitting in the bath... the sink shall be evaluated later.

Guess I'd better go back out and stand in the doorway, pretending like I'm moving boxes when all I'm actually doing is trying not to drool over the way Michael's muscles look under his shirt when they contract to lift the particularly heavy boxes.

_Heaven_.

**Still Tuesday, later**

Okay so maybe I hadn't done a very good job at hiding the fact that I wasn't really helping that much, if how Michael went, "Look, I know you're a princess and all but could you at least give me a little hand here? I never knew you owned so much stuff, at this rate it'll take me till midnight to get it all in here," as soon as I stepped out from the bathroom was anything to go by.

"I'm helping!" I protested feebly, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.

Michael just looked at me extremely sarcastically and said, "Which ones did you carry?"

I looked around quickly, but, finding nothing, said, "Oops, I think I left something in the bathroom. Be right back!" and ran into said bathroom.

Quite the master plan I think.

But you know, I did actually have to emerge from the bathroom at some point, and when I did, Michael made sure I was helping instead of just standing there. And by made sure, I mean he threatened to read all my journals. All of them. That sure got my feet moving.

Turns out though, moving boxes for an hour straight (with absolutely _no_ stopping to make out with Michael. Ahem)? Pretty hard work. I think I lost feeling in my arms somewhere around the fiftieth.

Even _I_ didn't know I had so much stuff.

Although, having said that, it was nothing compared to how much stuff Michael has. Seriously. I don't know if all my things are going to fit.

Oh, and I certainly don't have to worry about missing Mr G's pinball machine. Or his flat screen. Or his foosball table.

Yep. Michael has all of them. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's a flat screen in every room.

I have got to remember to become a robotic surgical arm maker at some point in my life, because I'm pretty sure Michael is equalling Bill Gates for money right now.

Oh well, I guess when we get married some day, and put both our money together, we'll be absolute billionaires anyway!

…Wait. Did I just say get married?

Crap. I think I'm still woozy from before. Because I am most definitely not ready for marriage. Definitely. Nooo way.

Except you know, if I _was_ thinking about getting married, I would totally want Michael to be my hu-

Gah! No! I'm putting this away before I write even crazier things.

**Wednesday, 4****th**** July, Michael's room, 2:00am**

I'm going to have to write this really quietly so as not to wake Michael, who is fast asleep (… I think) a few inches away from me.

Damn, why does this pen have to be so loud? Seriously, all you can hear is scratch scratch scra-

Uh oh, I think he's stirring!

Ah, false alarm, he's still asleep. Or he's awake and secretly laughing at me for being such a freak that I write in my journal at 2 o'clock in the morning.

Whatever.

Anyway, so about that whole marriage thing – ha, it makes me laugh to even think about the absurdity of that! Except, you know, not really because if I laugh then the bed shakes, and Michael wakes up and sees me writing in my diary and leaves the country again to go and find Midori so that they can have little babies that wear micro-mini skirts.

I'm getting off track. As I was saying, I don't what I was thinking when I wrote that stuff about getting married. I mean, can you really imagine, me, _me_, getting married? In a big church? With flower girls, and page boys and a bouquet and…

And a beautiful, white wedding dress that Sebastiano had chosen just for me especially, and –

NO! Ugh, my head hurts. I'm going to bed.

**Wednesday, 4****th**** July, 10:00am, Starbucks**

Well, that's just great. And this is the kind of thing I thought I'd be avoiding living with Michael. I mean, how did she even know how to get here? And at EIGHT IN THE MORNING.

Boris is a dead man. I wonder if anyone's ever been murdered by a violin before?

Oh yes, because, as you may have guessed, I was woken up by none other than TINA HAKIM BABA this morning, knocking on the door to Michael's and shouting as loud as possible, just in case I couldn't hear the frantic banging, I think (Yeah right), "MIA! MIA IT'S ME TINA! OPEN UP!"

Don't get me wrong, I missed Tina loads too, even though we met up as much as possible.

But, really, eight in the morning?

She should know me better by now.

I stumbled out of bed and to the door, but only after Michael all but pushed me out of the bed, a pillow on his head and repeatedly saying, "Make it stop, please make it stop,". Really, like he was being tortured or something. No 'Oh, don't worry your royal behind Mia, I'll just hop out of bed and get the door!'

I may have to change my mind about this husband thi-

NO!

I opened the door, trying as hard as I could to keep my eyes from slipping shut again. As I said, yesterday was a lot of hard work.

Maybe writing in my journal at two in the morning wasn't one of my best ideas either, but whatever.

Anyway, I was soon wide awake as I found Tina suddenly flinging herself at me, like she hadn't seen me in years. Which wasn't technically true, as it had only been like, four months or something.

But I hugged her back because, well, I did miss Tina.

I also missed not being the only one with a bodyguard following me around everywhere I went (Yeah, not the best way to introduce yourself, 'Hey I'm Mia. Oh, and this is my bodyguard Lars who my Dad the Prince of Genovia pays to follow me around in case anyone decides to try and kidnap me, or something. So what's your name?').

"MIA!" Tina yelled again, right in my ear.

"Unghf," Was all I managed in reply.

EIGHT IN THE MORNING.

"I missed you so much! How was Sarah Lawrence? Did you meet any nice people? How's Michael? What's it like living together? NYU is awesome! I met this girl called Jess and she-" Tina babbled on, but I'd already shut off. I love her, I really do, but she's just not too good in large doses during the early hours of the morning.

Kind of like sugar. Sweet, but not too great in large amounts.

At least not when you have a killer headache, much like the one that seems to have presented itself this morning.

Must be the early start. And late night.

I walked into the kitchen with Tina on my tail, and quickly started searching through the cabinets for something to eat, thinking food would help.

Tina chose the moment that I'd sat down, a bowl of cereal in front of me, to finally shut up for more than three seconds.

"So Mia, what's been happening with you?" she asked, sitting down beside me.

"Uh, not much. I moved in here-" I said, but was interrupted again.

"Oh god, yeah! What's it like? Living with a boy, I mean," she said, as I spooned some cereal quickly into my mouth. "Me and Boris were thinking about it, and I jus-"

I nearly choked on my fruit loops. Tina had to pat me on the back and everything.

But seriously, is she mad?!

Boris Pelkowski? Really?

Okay, so I know he's sort of hot now. At least, as hot as someone who tucks their sweater into their pants can be. But I really don't see how she can be _that_ attracted to him.

A mouth-breathing-violin-playing-guy like Boris? Surely she could find someone better than that to move in with.

Tina of course totally didn't get why I was choking – thank god, because I would _never_ say any of that stuff out loud. Her and Boris _are_ cute together, and I wouldn't want them to break up. Much – and simply continued, seemingly wanting to get out all the speaking we'd missed in the last, uh, however long we'd been separated for, in the next ten minutes.

"I mean, aren't guys like really messy and stuff? At least, that's what I've heard. And you'll have to do gross stuff, like pick their hair out the drain and-" Tina said, until I put my hand up to stop her.

"Uh, Tina, could we maybe talk about something else? I'm eating here," I said.

"Oh, sorry." She replied, then added, looking a little embarrassed, "I didn't wake you up did I?"

Uh, YES.

"No, don't worry," I said, not wanting to upset her.

But really, next time I'm just going to pretend I'm out or something.

"Good," she said happily, "So, do you think I should do it? Move in with Boris?"

Hmm. What would be the correct advice to his?

Um, eww.

You're seriously volunteering yourself to listen to Bartok all day? With nowhere to hide?

Sure! Go for it!

I opted for the third, thinking supportive was the best way to go.

"Sure, if you want to," I said, in between mouthfuls of cereal.

"Okay. So what's it like?" Tina asked, getting impatient as I tried to chomp through my cereal fast enough, but without choking this time.

"Uh, Tina, I've lived here for like barely a day," I pointed out, wanting nothing more than to run away back to bed.

Apparently, Michael was thinking the complete opposite, or maybe you could even hear Tina's happy chirping from the bedroom, as he walked in a few seconds later, looking bleary-eyed.

"Tina," he said, heading straight for the kettle. I'm thinking my second guess was more accurate, as he seems even less able to keep his eyes open than I was.

"Hey Michael," Tina replied, smiling, "How are you?"

"Tired."

Definitely the second.

After gulping down some coffee for myself, in hope that the caffeine would wake me up a little, I was pushed into the bedroom to get ready, then dragged out again an hour or so later, Tina saying something about 'catching up'.

So, here we sit, still 'catching up'.

I've just downed my third cappuccino. I think I've become a little caffeine addicted.

Wait a second, is that-?

It is!

And she's heading straight for us!

**Wednesday, Still at Starbucks, 12:00am**

I think Starbucks will have to thank me for about half it's weekly income.

I've been sitting in the same seat for two and half hours now. TWO AND A HALF HOURS.

Because, who would it turn out that Tina had decided to invite, but Lana Weinberger herself.

"GEEK!" Lana had yelled the moment she'd spotted me, causing just about everyone in the café turn and stare. Great, she's only been back in my life, for, what? Thirty seconds? And she's already embarrassing me.

Thanks Lana.

"Hey, Lana!" I shouted back, not wanting to seem rude.

She quickly came and hugged me, pressing her fake fingernails deep into my back in the process. Yeah, thanks, again, Lana.

Anyway, she and Tina together are like some kind of unstoppable force. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. They just don't shut up.

I think the words 'Oh my GOD' have been uttered more times in this two hour conversation than I've ever heard them said in my life.

Still, it _was_ nice to see them. Just like old times.

Which is funny, because I distinctly remember high school as pretty much the worst years of my life.

I mean, sure, there were good times, too, like me meeting Michael, going out with Michael, making friends with Tina, stuff like that.

But I think the bad things outweigh the good things by A LOT.

**Mia Thermopolis'**** Good Times During High School**

1) Going out with Michael. And him tutoring me in algebra. And singing me a song for my birthday. And the Winter Formal. And my snowflake necklace. And most other Michael-related memories.

2) Meeting Tina Hakim Baba.

3) Mom having Rocky. Whom I do love, but really wish hadn't gotten to the age in which all he enjoyed doing was pulling his pants down for anyone to see.

**Mia Thermopolis' Bad Times During High School**

Being told I was a princess.

Princess lessons. With Grandmere.

My Mom dating my Algebra teacher.

Being humiliated by Lana Weinberger.

Going out with Kenny Showalter.

Algebra.

Fighting with Lilly.

Michael leaving.

10) J.P using me.

11) My Dad dating my English teacher.

Yeah. Eleven to three. I think it's pretty clear which wins.

Damn, Lana just read over my shoulder and saw number four on the second list and is now mad at me for making her out to be the bad person in this, and argued that Lilly had done way worse stuff than she'd ever done.

Which you know, is very true.

But, Lilly did have quite good reason.

Lana, on the other hand? Not so much.

Crap, she read that too.

I really should stick to writing in toilets.

To stop this from getting out of hand, I quickly said, "But that's totally different now! I mean, all that stuff is in the past, I've basically forgotten everything you did to me,"

Lana just rolled her eyes, said, "Whatever geek," and turned back around to continue her debate with Tina over god knows what.

Phewph.

I wonder what Michael's doing right now.

We barely spoke to each other today, what with Tina practically pulling me by my hair out of the house. Well okay, it was my arm, but whatever.

And all he did was laugh and tell me to have a good time.

Nice to see he was bothered that I could potentially be out the house for the whole day, and possibly some of the night, too.

Then again, he may not know what Tina is capable of.

And with Lana here too, I likely won't be back until at least after midnight. I'll be lucky if we stop shopping by ten.

Thank god they haven't thought of that yet. But I'm pretty sure it will come soon enough. It is Lana after all; I think she's well on her way to buying just about the whole of the USA.

Man, she just read over my shoulder again! And now I'm being pulled up and dragged to the mall.

Except this time, the 'dragger' is armed with a French manicure like a dagger, so I may struggle a little less. I do _not_ want one of those stuck in my arm.

**Wednesday, 9pm, Mall Restroom**

Whoa, I was right!

We aren't even done yet. Lana said she has at least twenty more shops she wants to go to before we leave, and the only reason I'm able to write this is because I complained that if I wasn't allowed a bathroom break I'd pee my pants in the middle of the store.

Don't any of these stores ever _close_?

**Still Wednesday, Still The Mall, 9:30pm**

Ha, Lana's finding it very hard to find any more shops that are still open.

Have my prayers finally been answered?

_**Still**_** Wednesday, Leaving The Mall, 10:00pm**

YES! Every single store that Lana wanted to go in had closed, and I am finally FREE!

And hey, whaddya know, I was pretty accurate with my prediction.

She claims that we're now all off to this party that someone she knows is hosting, but I stealthily snook towards the limo…

At least it would have been stealthy if Lars would quit bumping into me. I say ouch, as loud as I dare each time, but there's no response.

I'm not surprised. I think we lost him about seven-ish.

Lana asked me where the heck I thought I was going, as she wanted us to go in her car.

I quickly mumbled something about wanting to go in the limo and meeting her there, and I think she replied with something about me not knowing how to get there.

But I wouldn't know, as I'd already got into the limo, followed by Lars, still in his stupor, and told the driver to step on it.

I am practically suffocating for all the shopping bags squished in beside me, and the space in the limo is usually huge. This is actually quite scary, that I have bought – or should I say, Lana has made me buy – enough to fill the limo.

Remind me never to go shopping with her again.

At least not with a set time and spending limit.

And I thought Michael's was cramped before; wait till he sees all this.

**Wednesday, HOME!, 10:15pm**

I headed straight to bed as soon as I got in, and Michael followed me.

It seems he never quite got over his drowsiness either, and that was without being forced to march around the whole mall at least thirty times by Lana.

I couldn't even be bothered getting changed, and simply took off my shoes, jacket and threw the bags somewhere in the room (Lars had to help me carry them all in) before jumping on to the bed.

And now, I'm going to sleep, because last night really taught me a lesson.

I am never writing in my journal so late again – not when there's a possibility of Tina Hakim Baba waking me up at eight in the morning the next day.

**Thursday, 5****th**** July, 3:00am**

Okay, so I know this is totally going against what I wrote a few hours ago, but I can't sleep.

I can't sleep because MICHAEL IS SNORING.

Yes, snoring.

I guess even the most perfect people have their flaws.

Also, he's totally hogging the blanket. I am freezing my butt off over here while he's all snuggled up on the other side of the bed, snoring away.

I may be forced to hit him with a pillow.

But I suppose that's a touch harsh.

And he does look so cute asleep.

**Thursday, 3:10am**

I hit him.

And he didn't even flinch. His snores didn't even stop for one second!

This is not good.

_Okay, so there it is; my first chapter. Please tell me what you think, and if you think I should continue!_

_I have no clue if I'm any good at writing like Mia , although I do adore her , so please let me know!_

_If I think I am wanted, I will continue, but you have to tell me!_

_Love Ellenn_

_X x x x_


	2. Return of the PugFaced one

_Okay so thank you everyone who reviewed, favourited even looked at the first chapter (: Especially those who revi__ewed :D I'll reply properly to those of you I couldn't PM at the end of the chapter._

_So, I'll get writing now and hopefully get this chapter out as soon as I can for all of youu. This was started on Sunday 12th, but it took me about three days because I was interrupted so much last time, so just bear with me._

_It's all Meg's ._

**Thursday 5****th**** July, 10:00am**

The phone is ringing for what is possibly the gazillionth time this morning.

Michael's home phone this is – I threw my own cell against the wall hours ago.

If this keeps up I swear there's going to be a murder before midday today.

And I haven't yet ruled out suicide either.

Seriously, is it too much to ask to have at least one decent hour's sleep in this place?

Thankfully, the steam engine beside me shut up about six-ish, but, almost as if someone is actually _trying _to kill me – and I wouldn't put it past Grandmere, even if she seems to have mellowed just the tiniest bit after I chose Sarah Lawrence, she sure as heck wasn't too happy with me when I snubbed Genovia for a summer with Michael – that immediately coincided with when the phones started ringing.

I suppose I should've at least checked to see who it was that seemed to want to speak to me so very urgently, but –

Aah, finally some PEACE. I think Michael's disconnected the phone line. I always knew there was a reason I loved him so much; not including the smell of his neck, of course.

Now I can just have a nice little nap before getting up to face the wrath of the phantom… uh, caller.

**Thursday, 10:30am, In Bed, Eating Pancakes**

Okay, so Michael came in about fifteen minutes after his genius feat of disconnecting the phone line with a tray full of pancakes and a hot chocolate and, well, how can you go back to sleep when faced with _that_?

Plus, aside from being a worldwide-phenomenon-robotic-surgical-arm-builder, Michael makes some damn good pancakes.

Except I'm kind of getting crumbs all over his bed.

See, it turns out it's pretty hard to eat pancakes, whilst balancing a tray on your lap and writing in your journal all at the same time.

And now Michael seems to have decided to re-enter the room just as I was getting the hang of multi-tasking, so I guess I can add 'trying to not look like an idiot in front of all-round-genius-and-Christian-Bale resembling-boyfriend'.

Okay and now he's looking at the journal with his eyebrow raised sort of like he's wondering why the heck I'm writing in it.

Oops. Time to go.

**Thursday, 11:00am, Bathroom**

Michael cleverly decided to avoid asking me about my apparent inability to quit writing in this journal, and instead asked if I wanted to spend the day with him.

I accepted, and have now excused myself to have a shower.

**Thursday, 11:02am, Still in the Bathroom**

Okay, so I know this is going to sound really stupid but… I'm scared.

I mean, what if what Tina was talking about yesterday is true? What if… in the plughole… you know, I'll find some, um, unwanted substances.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally and completely mature now; but if he thinks I'm going to start, uh, 'cleaning up after him', then he is so wrong. That is just gross.

Alright, I'll just peak in and see if there's anything there…

**Thursday, 11:05am, Still in the Bathroom**

I don't want to look.

Fine, I'm going to look.

**Thursday, 11:06am, Bathroom**

Phewph, the coast is clear, we're good to go.

I should know better by now than to listen to Tina. She may have read every romance novel on this earth, but when it comes down to the real facts, she knows just as much as me.

i.e., not very much.

**Thursday, 11:30am, Bathroom**

Well, nothing like a nice, long, hot power shower to relax your muscles after a tense morning of countless phone-ringing and pancake-eating.

I wonder where Michael's planning on taking me.

After all the sleep deprivation of late, I'd be happy with just a movie or whatever, but I doubt that's what we're going to be doing.

Anyway, whatever it is, it'll sure beat a day of mall-trekking with Lana and Tina. Not that I didn't enjoy their company yesterday; it's just that, you know, it wasn't so easy on the feet.

Still, at least I have a brand new outfit – and about ten more to spare – for today.

**Thursday, 12:00am, Bedroom**

Flats, or high heels?

Flats, I think. More summery. And I want to avoid the BFG (Big Friendly Giant) look.

**Thursday, 12:30am, Limo on the way to Central Park Boathouse**

Michael thought it'd be nice to come back here, seeing as last time we were here it was under very different circumstances.

Those circumstances being that I was practically engaged – well, promise ringed – to another guy, and ready to go all the way with said other guy on prom night whilst completely unaware that he may be using me for fame rather than actually loving me as he claimed to.

Oh how times have changed.

Anyway, he decided it would be nice to have a better memory of being together there, rather than the aforementioned one.

I have to say, I do much prefer going out with Michael than JP.

And not just because of the paparazzi thing either… or the fact that he smells _way_ better.

We just have more fun. I mean, all JP used to talk about was his play, how much he loved me, the future, blah blah blah…

Just the complete opposite of how Michael and I are.

Plus, it is way hotter to be a robotic-surgical-arm-creator than a dumb play writer. No offence to JP or any other person who enjoys writing plays based on their girlfriend's lives, focusing on all the bad things she has done, and making him look like a hero for saying nothing more than that he'll marry her in the end. Oh, swoooon! Not.

Really, I'd rather watch Dirty Dancing any day.

**Thursday, 1:30am, Central Park Boathouse**** Bathroom**

I can't believe it. I actually can't. Twice in a row. TWICE IN TWO DAYS. I really hope this isn't a taster of how my life is going to be.

So, it all started off fine – great actually. I hadn't realised how much I'd actually missed being around Michael until now, when I'd finally gotten him back.

Well, maybe I had, but I'd tried to hide it so as not to come off as the clingy girlfriend type.

"So, we haven't got a chance to really, uh, talk since I got back," I started to say, thinking this was the polite way to start a conversation. I mean, I'd been back, what, two days? And practically all I'd said to him was, 'Hey, hand me that box.'

I didn't even know what he'd been doing all the while I was in college, really. I mean, sure, he travelled a bit for surgical arm stuff, but when he went into details about that I kind of switched off a little.

Well you can't blame me. I was a little out of my depth talking to a scientifical genius and all.

"Uh, Mia, what do you mean we haven't had a chance to talk?" Michael said, "You do nothing _but_ talk!"

This is possibly true.

"Well, yeah," I said, "But I just talk rubbish about everything _I_'ve done. Shouldn't we talk about you? It's only fair,"

Michael just laughed, and replied "Something tells me you wouldn't much enjoy listening to me telling you the many tales of robotical-arm related uh, fun."

"Hey!" I said, "Just because I'm not as smart as you doesn't mean I don't want to know about stuff like that!"

Well, okay, it kind of does, but I can't let him think that.

So, I simply listened and took in – fine. Pretended to take in - every single word he said.

But, ugh, really, couldn't he be something a little more exciting? Like, I don't know, an astronaut?

Then again, I'm not sure how I'd feel about Michael going into space…

I wonder if they let you take souvenhirs from there? I mean, it's not like they'd miss a tiny piece of the moon or anything. Just a tiny bit, to put on a necklace or something.

And how cool would that be to tell people? Like:

Person: Hey, I like your necklace.

Me: Oh, thanks.

Person (Most likely Lana – who else would care?): Where'd you get it?

Me: The Moon.

Lana: What are you on, geek? You can't get necklaces from the MOON.

Me: Uh, yeah, Michael got it for me.

Lana: Right. And I slept with George Clooney.

Me:…It really wouldn't surprise me.

Sometime during this epiphany (if you can call it that, which I doubt you can) Michael had asked me something.

Of course, since I'd been listening so, uh, closely to the conversation, I hadn't the faintest idea that I was meant to be speaking.

Michael actually had to click his fingers in front of my face a couple of times for me to come back to earth; this was actually very embarrassing.

I wiped under my chin, too, just in case.

"Uh, could you repeat the question?" I asked, blinking and trying to fake like I'd been listening the whole time. Which, you know, is quite hard to do whilst also trying to figure out what the heck you'd been talking about beforehand anyway.

Michael just shook his head, laughed, and said, "Case in point."

Whatever.

Our food came then, and he was too distracted by whatever it was on his plate to carry on with that conversation.

I decided to change topic anyway.

"Do you remember the last time we came here?" I asked.

"Yes. Although I much preferred the carriage ride afterwards." He said.

I blushed. Even though I don't like J.P at all anymore, I still think it was sort of wrong of me to do that.

Oh well, what he did to me was way worse anyway.

"Me too." I said, "But I was just thinking about how much things have changed since then. I still didn't have a clue where I was going to college… I still didn't have a clue I was going to end up back with you."

"You were still engaged-" I glared at him, "Sorry, '_promised' _to another guy. A stupid guy."

"Right." I said, "And yet here we are, just like old times. Kind of." The only difference being the fact that I am a published author and he is a robotic arm creator and founder of Pavlov Surgical.

But you know, other than that, just the same old Michael and Mia.

"Well-" Michael started, but he was interrupted by a shouting coming from the river.

Yes, the river.

I knew it was them even before I looked.

Sitting in a stupid rowing boat was Lana and Tina – although they were in danger of ending up in the lake, if how much they were waving their arms about and wobbling the boat was anything to go by.

I am seriously in need of some new friends. Is it really that hard to find normal ones?

"GEEK!" Lana screeched, "IF YOU DON'T GET OUT HERE NOW, I SWEAR I'LL COME IN AND GET YOU! MY EXTENSIONS ARE GETTING WET!"

Apparently so.

Anyway, there is no way on earth I am going out there to be shopped to death like yesterday.

So, I'm back in here hiding again. Michael's on lookout.

…Wait a second.

I can hear something. Sounds kind of like a foghorn.

"POOOOOGGGG!" What is it?

It's getting closer.

It's right outside the door. Hey, I know those shoes…

It isn't…

"POG!"

It is!

**Thursday, ****5:00pm, Limo on the way home from Lilly and Kenneth's (!) Apartment **

So, I may not have been dragged around the mall all afternoon like yesterday, but I was instead dragged back to Lilly's apartment.

Well, hers and Kenneth's.

Which, is you ask me, is even more repulsive than living with Boris.

But, they seem happy enough (whatever) so I guess I'll just have to suck it up.

And try not to gag.

I think I managed pretty well, if I may say so myself.

Thankfully, Lilly let me in turn drag Michael with us, so I was partially happy about that. Of course, as soon as we walked in the door, he was dragged off by Kenneth to be shown… uh, some _thing_ – I sort of tuned out for the explanation – and so I was left Michael-less, and vulnerable.

Well, apart from the six foot two bodyguard by my side, but you know.

I'm half sure Lilly could take him anyway.

It wasn't all that bad, actually. I mean, I'd hardly seen her the whole time we'd been at college, her being all into it, and studying and not wanting to go out and miss some dumb lecture or class or whatever. That's Lilly for you.

Plus, she's been busy with _Lilly Tells It Like It Is_, which I hear is even more popular of late.

Anyway, I'd totally missed her, especially seeing as we'd pretty much gotten back to being best friends again – although a little differently then the first time – after that whole reunion thing during prom.

So, we spent a lot of time just talking about everything that had gone on.

Which, no surprise, a lot more had gone on for her than me.

Turns out _Lilly Tells It Like It Is_ had gotten like the Korean version of an emmy, or something, so she'd had to go and uh, collect that.

Also, seeing as she ended up interviewing this Korean singer person, who, since, has become some kind of nationwide superstar, and Lilly is the only one to have interviewed her, well, that got a reaction.

A big reaction.

Turns out Lilly was invited to the same office that hired Beverly Bellereive (remember her? The one that I spilled my guts to about Rocky and pretty much everything else I could have? Well, the very same) for a kind of trial.

And, Lilly being Lilly, she passed with flying colors.

There was just one small problem, apparently, that they found it a little hard to overlook.

"I mean, I guess I get the whole 'no piercing' look. I have to appeal to a younger audience too. But can you believe it?" Lilly had said, "Seriously! And I quote, 'The nose could prove a problem'. Like I wasn't even in the room! And what's that even supposed to mean, anyway?"

That you have a nose that faintly – oh, who am I kidding. If you had a pet pug the phrase 'dogs look like their owners' would never have been more appropriate – resembles that of a pug dog.

"There's nothing wrong with my nose, is there?" Lilly asked, "Mia, what's wrong with my nose?"

To lie or not to lie?

Well, having barely gotten through the mess – and countless therapy sessions - all my lies got me into last time, I chose the second.

What a big mistake that turned out to be.

"Well, I mean…" I'd started, still sort of unsure.

I've probably said it before, but Lilly can be pretty intimidating when she wants to be.

"Mia." She came right up close to me, and I flinched away a little, "Is there a problem with my nose?"

"I wouldn't say… _problem_," I stuttered, "It can appear a little on the… squashed side."

"What do you mean 'squashed'?" Lilly said. Well, demanded would be a little more appropriate a word.

"Well, it's just, you know, sort of small, and a little wider than usual. And from a certain angle it can look as though the tip is sort of pointed up-" I said, but was interrupted.

Really. She asks me a question and then doesn't shut up long enough for me to answer properly. What does she want from me?

"WHAT?" Lilly practically shrieked. "Mia!"

"Yes?" I said.

"Are you saying I need a nose job?" she asked, still only centimetres from my face.

I don't know whether it was my imagination or not, but I think she was actually snarling slightly.

You notice these things when you're that close to people.

"If you want to then, sure, I wouldn't stop you. You could always say that it was because you had breathing issues. If that excuse is good enough for Ashley Tisdale, it's good enough for you." I said.

And then, without any warning – well, other than the fact that Lilly picked one up off of the couch we were sitting on – a cushion came hurtling towards me.

And hit me. Right in the face.

All because I was the thoughtful friend that I am, and instead of lying – probably to make her feel better, but lying all the same – I told her my honest opinion.

Three years of therapy and that's what I learn. To not lie to people.

And this is my reward?

Getting hit with a cushion? And not very softly, either?

"Ow!" I cried, with good reason. The corner got me right in the eye; I probably had mascara streaks all down my face with all the watering it was doing, "What did you do that for?"

"You just told me I needed a nose job!" Lilly yelled.

"You asked me for my opinion and I gave it to you!" I said.

"Why can't you do what friends are supposed to do? You know, like 'Oh, it's okay Lilly, those idiotic, big shot producers don't know what they're talking about. The absolute absurdity of what they said about your nose shocks, and saddens me, to my very core. You'll get another chance, you're a spectacular interviewer, and plus, who wants to work for their IDOL'S company? Come here, my incomparable friend, here's a tissue; whoever wouldn't want to hire you is so eminently moronic that it is in fact laughable.'" Lilly said.

Uh, maybe because I'm not a butt-kissing lesbian who happens to be the one person in the world – other than Grandmere – that speaks like that?

Lilly didn't much appreciate me pointing this out though, resulting in her lobbing another cushion at me.

I ducked this time though.

So, instead of hitting the intended target – me – it ended up hitting a different obstacle that just happened to walk into the room at that time.

Michael.

"Hey!" he said, as the cushion hit him full in the face. I have to hand it to her, Lilly has great aim. Even when her throw goes wrong, it always ends up with someone getting hit in the face. "What was that for?"

Lilly just snorted and hurried to the bathroom (I bet to go look at her nose. Who knew she was so vain?), shouting after her, "Sorry, I was aiming for your girlfriend!"

He looked at me with an eyebrow raised but I just shrugged. Michael himself should know what his own sister is like.

"Kenny finished showing you his, uh…" I asked.

Well, if it had been Kenny – oops, Kenneth – explaining it, you would have forgotten, too.

"Yep. Kid's pretty smart, but he's got a long way to go before finding a cure for cancer." Michael said.

"Mm." I said. "Well, if the coast is clear, we may be able to sneak away…"

Michael laughed, quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me off of the sofa, and away we went.

And now, seeing as our day together hadn't exactly gone as planned, he had offered to take me out to dinner instead.

Which is a very nice offer.

Except that, just now, when I asked why he'd decided to enter the room just as Lilly and I had been sort of fighting, he said "I think we both know who would win in a fight between you two. I figured I'd help you out."

"I did not need your help! I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles." I said.

"Right." Michael said.

"You think you know me so well, don't you?" I said.

"Uh, yeah, because I do." He said.

"No you don't," I said.

"Mia, I've known you since you were about four." He said.

"So?" I said.

"See, I knew you were going to say that." He said.

"Whatever." I scowled, not wanting to lose the battle. Stupid, clever, hot Michael.

"I knew you were going to say that, too." He said.

"Shut up."

"And that."

"FAT LOUIE! Ha, bet you didn't think I was going to say that!"

"I did, actually."

I guess I'll just have to find a different way to shut him up.

We'll see if he's still saying that when he finds his lips otherwise occupied.

**Thursday, 10:00pm, Our apartment**

Best. Date. Ever.

**Friday, 4:00am, Michael's bed**

Sorry the last entry was a little on the brief side.

I figured it didn't need much more explanation.

Well, that, and Michael sort of distracted me.

Did I say how great it is living together?

It's great living together.

I may even be able to overlook the snoring – which isn't, thankfully, as bad tonight.

But only because I love him.

And apparently, I take so long in the bathroom – only because I write in here, which he totally knows anyway – that it makes us even.

Whatever.

_AN; Done! Finally!_

_Sorry it took so long. I seriously suck at writing what Michael, and Lilly say. I hope I got their characters right!_

_Anonymous __Review responses_

_Mmmmm(etc) – thanks! I hope you think the same about this chapter…_

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_Jen – sorry it took me so long! Glad you think so (:_

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_If I didn't reply to you're review and you are a member, then sorry, but I have read it and I will get round to it eventually._

_I was so happy with the feedback from the first chapter, so please give me just as much as then!_

_Love Ellenn_

_X x x_


	3. Housekeepers and Buckets

_AN; Hey guys. Thanks for your reviewing again, I'm really glad you like it._

_This was started on the 23__rd__, and will hopefully get out within a few days, but it depends on how long it takes me to write it… anyway, all aboard chapter… uh, three? _

_Cabot owns all._

**Friday 6****th**** July, 12:00pm**

Oops.

I guess all those – okay, two, but who's counting? – late nights finally caught up with me.

This is the longest I've slept in since, well, ever.

That sounds kind of sad, doesn't it?

Well, you'd be the same too, if when you so much as thought about pressing the snooze button on your alarm, you would either be awoken by an angry Grandmere (I swear that woman is at least a little bit psychic. That, or she sends those Genovian spies that she thinks are secret but I know she totally used to stalk Brad Pitt for a little while back before he started going out with Jennifer Anniston, who I don't think is even all that pretty, to watch me and report back to her on anything I do that is remotely un-princessy) or a bored Rocky, entertaining himself by bashing my face with a plastic hammer.

Are you really surprised I needed therapy, after _those_ are the kinds of memories of my, uh, teenhood?

Anyway, this is actually quite nice. The bed is all comfy, and warm and-

Wait a second… I appear to be missing something.

Anyone happen to have seen a six foot tall, hot, robotic-surgical-arm-maker recently? Because he sure as heck isn't where he's supposed to be.

By me. In our bed.

I guess Grandmere isn't the only one who isn't a fan of sleeping in.

Huh, I really hope that's the only thing Michael and Grandmere have in common. Like, I'd better not find out that Michael is planning on tattooing eyeliner permanently around his eyes.

These are not the kinds of thoughts I enjoy waking up to.

**Friday, 12:15pm, the kitchen**

So it turns out Michael hadn't finally seized the chance to escape and run off to elope with Micromini Midori – and it's not like I thought that he had, anyway.

After giving in the battle with my stomach – and in a plight to get the images of Michael throwing back a sidecar whilst simultaneously balancing six cigarettes in his mouth out of my mind – I wandered into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Too bad I don't know where anything is in this place. I could really do with some more of those pancakes.

I did find, however, taped to the fridge a note with Michael's handwriting scrawled all over it. This was my first – okay, and only – clue.

_Your highness,_

_Didn't want to wake you. Seeing as you seem to switch off at the slightest mention of anything robotic or surgical – don't try to deny it – I didn't think you'd remember me mentioning yesterday that I have to go and give a speech at the university today. Be back about two-ish._

_I hope you're capable of getting lunch yourself. _

_Love Michael_

Of course I'm capable of making myself lunch! I survived for fourteen years just living with my mother, didn't I?

Now, if I were Michael, where would I keep my spoons…

Oh! Someone just knocked at the door.

Probably Tina again. There really is no stopping that girl. Oh well, maybe we could go to Nobu or somewhere, save me the trouble of turning Michael's loft upside down in search of cutlery.

**Friday, 12:20pm, B****edroom**

I'm back in here. And I can't get my stomach to shut up.

Seriously, you'd think I hadn't eaten for hours or something. Which, okay, I guess I haven't. But it could at least shut up for another day or something. I wouldn't last a second living in Africa where they have to walk for like a day just to get to _dirty_ water.

I put a cushion over it to try and muffle the sounds.

Anyway, the reason I'm back in here and not speeding away in the limo to Nobu, much to my stomach's protests, is that it wasn't Tina at the door.

Oh no. It was Michael's housekeeper. (!)

And, how am I supposed to know how to treat a housekeeper? The closest I've ever gotten to one of them is the servants at the palace in Genovia, and I think you treat servants a little differently to housekeepers.

God, and what's she going to think of me now?, after I all but ran in here the second after answering the door.

What are you supposed to do? Make small talk?

Plus, I didn't have the slightest idea what she was saying… did Michael _have_ to get a, uh, - I don't know, Polish maybe? - housekeeper?

"Mia?" was all she'd said when she saw me. Uh, hello, creepy! I'm sorry but it's not often that I'm faced with strange Polish ladies at the door who know me by name!

When I nodded, a little dumbfounded – because, really. I was expecting Tina Hakim Baba, and I got a woman I'd never seen before asking if Mia was my name. For all I knew, she could've like shot me, or something. Albeit, she was like, half my size, but so are most people when I wear heels – she simply said, in a thick accent of some kind, something like "Clean." And walked in.

At least that's what it sounded like. And what do you say to that, really?

Should I go and say hi? What if that's all the English she speaks? I don't want to intimidate her or anything.

Plus, what kind of conversation do you make with someone who is cleaning up after you? 'Oh, yeah, sorry about that stain there. I got a little too over-excited whilst eating some ice cream and watching _America's funniest home videos_.', or 'Oh, wow! I love that feather duster! Where'd you get it?'.

Yeah, that sure wouldn't get her running out the door and down the street and back to Poland faster than you can say 'hoover'.

That, or she'd hit me with said feather duster.

But I can't stay in here all day! And Michael won't be back for another _two hours_.

Ugh, and the whole cushion-stomach thing? Really not working.

If I don't get food in about ten seconds I may just _eat_ the cushion.

**Friday, 12:22pm, Still Bedroom**

I wonder what tastes better: silk, or cotton?

**Friday, 12:25pm, **_**Still**_** Bedroom**

Okay, I'm gonna put my ear to the door and see what I can hear. Maybe if she's in another room, I could sneak out without her noticing and avoid any awkward conversations.

I mean, I don't want her to think I'm going out just because she's here.

Even though I totally am.

Well, that, and the fact that I swear I'm going to die if I don't eat something in the next five minutes.

Something that wasn't purchased at _Macys_.

Wait, is that music playing I can hear? …and, _singing_?

Oh, god, I can't go out now! She must think I've already gone! And she will be so embarrassed if I walk out and hear her singing.

Damn. Now what?

Maybe I could call Tina and-

**Friday, 12:30pm, Limo on the way to Tina's**

Well, that went well.

Not.

Really, can't I just once put forward a good first impression on someone?

So, the reason I cut off before was because I fell out the door.

I'm not even kidding. I fell out the door, right into the poor, unaware Polish lady.

I mean, she's probably come here today thinking that nothing would happen out of the ordinary, just the usual job, you know, cleaning. Heck, she probably came to America, looking for a nice change in atmosphere, you know, meet some new people, _mingle_, maybe settle down.

But no, that's not what happens when confronted with Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo.

No, instead of normal jobs, you end up with a 5"10 princess lying on top of you. Which isn't at all embarrassing. For either housekeeper or princess.

God, what am I going to do if she resigns or something? Michael might find it a little bit suspicious if his housekeeper quits coincidentally the same day that she meets me.

What if I hurt her? What if she sues us?!

Can you sue people for falling on top of you? And then running out the door. Like a fall, crush, and run.

Ugh, I am such an idiot.

If I had just moved from leaning on the door instead of staying slumped on top of it, just daring someone to open it so I could fall on them, I wouldn't even _be_ in this situation!

I bet she thinks I was listening in to her singing too. So now I'm an eavesdropping, mean, stupid, clumsy idiot that falls out of doors. Great, that's just great. Really the kind of name I want for myself.

You know what? I'm just going to forget it, and move on.

I shouldn't dwell over things I can't change.

I'll just think about the things I can change. Like, for instance, the fact that I haven't stopped blushing since opening the door, practically.

I have to be wearing at least twenty layers of powder and concealer and any other cosmetic I could find in my handbag, and yet I am still as red as those stupid converse shoes Michael always wears.

Oh well. A bit of colour is a good thing, right?

I just hope the same goes for a lot of colour.

I wonder if when I step outside, cars will start stopping because they think I'm a stop sign, or a traffic light or something.

I'll just have to call Tina and tell her when we get there – I called her to ask if she wanted to come out right after the door-falling fiasco – to avoid getting out the car.

And hopefully I'll be hidden behind Lars when we go into Nobu.

That, or I could put my bag on my head.

…I think I'll go with the former option. Lars is big enough to hide both me and Tina, and my chanel clutch would probably only hide one of my stupid, blazing cheeks.

We're here now. I'd better ring Tina.

And put this away. I don't want to seem like I'd rather write in here than talk to her.

**Friday, 1:30pm, Toilets at Nobu**

Why do I always write in toilets? It's hardly hygienic.

But, whatever, I really don't feel all that good, and I wouldn't exactly want to make a scene by throwing up all over the table out there, or on an innocent bystander, so, this'll do.

Tina is a lot more bearable than both her and Lana together. I can, on occasion, get a word in edgeways.

It's also better now that we've officially 'caught up'. Just like old times.

Although I did get Tina's version of a telling-off – basically her whining and pouting and throwing puppy dog eyes in my face just to make me feel bad - about blowing her and Lana off yesterday. But, I mean, so what if Lana's extensions got completely ruined. It's not like she can't get new ones.

Tina disagreed, apparently.

"Come on, Mia, we just wanted to see you! We haven't hung out properly since high school!" Tina whined.

"What do you mean 'hung out properly'? I saw you practically every chance I had whilst we were in college! And, what, did Wednesday not count?" I said, back, but felt kind of bad when Tina started pouting a little. What?, the girl is _good_. "I mean, of course I want to see you guys too, but we all live here now. We've got tons of time!"

"Not really. Lana says she doesn't want to be stuck here her whole life, and I think we both know how true that is. I mean, she gets bored of something within five minutes of her having it. You can't really think she's going to stay here forever." Tina said.

"Okay, so she's gonna travel a bit. She's not going to completely forget about us and never see us again!" I said.

"Uh, I think you're overestimating her a little. She's Lana. She'll probably end up being best friends with Paris Hilton or someone, and forget all about us! We don't have much time left to spend together." Tina said.

Trust her to be a drama queen. Paris Hilton? Really?

"I think Paris could irritate even Lana within five seconds of being with her. And vice versa."

"You know what I mean. For all you know, you could never see her again after yesterday."

To save this argument going on for the majority of the afternoon, I decided to cut Tina off there, and simply agree.

"Right. I'm sorry, okay? It was the first time me and Michael had gone out since I'd got back, so I didn't want to bail on him. And then Lilly showed up, and I think you know as well as me how hard it is to say no to her." I said, instead.

"Oh." Was all Tina said for a while. She looked like she was thinking about something, but I decided to leave it and simply dug in to my salad.

It was like heaven after the morning of starvation I had suffered.

"Do you think we're going to stay friends Mia?" Tina asked me. I almost groaned, wanting nothing more than to eat my food in peace. Was that too much to ask?

I love Tina, I really do, as much as it may seem that I don't more often than not these days, but come on. I hadn't eaten in over twelve hours!

"What?" I said, shovelling as much lettuce in my mouth as I could at a time. Attractive, I know.

OVER TWELVE HOURS OF STARVATION.

"I mean, like I was saying, Lana's not going to stay here forever. And I doubt Lilly'll be here for much longer, she'll be heading to bigger and better things; she always is. It's going to be hard keeping in touch with everyone if they live so far away." She said, shrugging and digging in to her own food.

I swallowed the remainder of food that was in my own mouth, and thought about what to say.

Poor Tina. Poor naïve Tina. I mean, as much as I'd like to still have all my friends in fifty years time, I highly doubt it works that way. In fact, I'm nearly one hundred percent sure it doesn't work that way.

That's why they have things like _Friends Reunited!. _You're supposed to move on from your high school friends.

…But, does that mean you're supposed to move on from your 'high school sweethearts', too? Because, that's technically what me and Michael are, even though we did break up for a while in the middle, we were still going out for a long time during high school.

Are we supposed to have moved on by now?

Look at Lana and Josh. They were like, the 'it' couple of AEHS.

And they were practically doomed the second he graduated.

"Uh, I guess it'll never be _exactly_ the same as it was," I said in response to Tina, not really concentrating on the answer anymore.

Are me and Michael doomed?

Really, what percentage of successful marital relationships began when the couple was in _high school_?

I mean, take my Mom and Dad, for instance. I know they met at college, but still, that's probably better than high school, and they didn't even get married at all!

Maybe it's different for Michael and me. Because it's not just a one-night stand, or a popularity-pairing like Mom and Dad and Lana and Josh. We actually genuinely have feelings for each other. And that changes things, right?

Right?

I hope it does. I really do.

"I just wish we could all stay friends forever." Tina said, looking down into her lap, and sounding so much younger than we actually were, yet for once, I completely agreed. "Why does everything have to change?"

I don't know. But I really wish it didn't, too.

"Life." I said, piercing another piece of lettuce with my fork.

Suddenly I wasn't so hungry anymore.

Maybe that's why I feel so weird now, too. I managed to put myself off of eating.

Ugh.

**Friday, 1:45pm, Limo on the way home**

Being sick? Yeah, not so much fun.

Vomiting in the toilets for ten minutes, unable to go out and get someone, say, your bodyguard or your best friend, because you're worried that if you do, you'll end up puking all over the restaurant? Even less fun.

And that, on top of being completely un-princesslike, would just be disgusting. And hard to clean up.

So, all I have to say, is thank god Tina thought to come check on me after I'd been in there for like a quarter of an hour.

Especially considering the fact that that is basically a completely normal time-frame for me to be in the bathroom, seeing as I spend most of my time in there not actually using it, and instead writing in here.

Anyway, I'm just glad I was a little too preoccupied trying to hold in what was coming out of my mouth when being rushed through the restaurant and out the door, to blush.

Because people most definitely noticed.

And I think I've been embarrassed enough for one day.

So now I am sitting in the limo, with my head in a bucket that the manager thoughtfully – or maybe desperately, just to get me out of there – thrust at Lars whilst we were making our impromptu exit.

Well, this is nice. Really. Just how I wanted to spend my afternoon. Why chat with your best friend, when you can happily sit with your head in a bucket that smells of sick already, just adding to the feeling of nausea.

Wow, I am so lucky.

**Friday, 2:00pm, Our apartment**

Michael still isn't back.

Tina offered to stay with me, but I wouldn't let her. I don't think it'd be that much fun sitting with someone who is constantly throwing up. Or writing about throwing up.

Besides, I don't think it's that serious. I probably just ate too fast.

Or, maybe it's that swine flu thing that everyone's been freaking out about.

Oh well, I'm sure it'll pass.

I'll just go lay down, or watch a movie or something.

Ew, I think I just gagged again.

The bucket is most definitely coming with me.

**Friday, 2:15pm, Trying to choose a movie**

I managed to find where Michael keeps all his DVDs, but I don't know what to watch.

Mostly because they all seem to be about things exploding.

I don't know where he's put all his copies of _Star Wars_, because they are most definitely not here.

Oh well, I guess I'll just pick one at random.

**Friday, 2:30pm, On the sofa**

This movie sucks. It's called _Armageddon_.

I only picked it because it had Ben Affleck in it, and he is totally hot, even though he's like in his thirties or whatever.

And now, all they're talking about is asteroids. Who really cares about asteroids?

**Friday, 2:45pm, Still on the sofa, watching the stupid asteroid movie**

This really is a terrible movie. But I can't be bothered getting up and changing it. Plus, the more I move, the more I gag.

Why can't Michael own a copy of _Dirty Dancing_?

Or, more importantly, why isn't he back yet?

Would it be selfish of me to ring him and say I'm sick so that he'll come home?

It would, wouldn't it?

Hey, I could ring Mom. I haven't spoken to her since before I came back here.

Plus, it's either her, or Grandmere. And I think I know who would be more sympathetic over me being sick.

But what if she's mad at me for not calling sooner? Or not going over to say hi, even though I only live like, fifteen minutes away.

I guess I can see why that might annoy her. Still, at least I didn't move to a completely different state from my parents – Dad doesn't count, because that would be a whole different country, but you know – like she did.

And, hey, I have been busy! First there was moving in, all those boxes, and then I got ambushed by Tina, and well, I had to spend some time with Michael after that!, and then there was a similar ambushing by Lilly… and, well, there just hasn't been much time.

She could've called me.

It's not like I wouldn't have answered or- oops. Maybe that was who was calling yesterday, not Tina or Lana…

Crap.

Who would've guessed, the phantom-caller was none other than Helen Thermopolis?

Something tells me she won't really see the funny side of things.

Perhaps, just thinking of my health and safety, now isn't the best time for a reunion over the phone. Or in person, for that matter.

Especially not in the state I'm in now.

Speaking of which, I think I'm going to hurl again. All this thinking is making my head spin.

**Friday, 3:30pm, In Bed**

MICHAEL, WHERE ARE YOU?

If he _has_ run off to elope, then I may just have to…

I may just have to puke all over his side of the bed.

At least, that's why I'll tell him I did it.

He should count himself lucky. Not all girlfriends puke on your bed for you.

**Friday, 3:45pm, Still Bed**

I'm going to sleep. Michael can just feel bad when he comes home and sees me lying here all ill, and pathetic.

Oh! I think I just heard a key in the door!

Look sick, look sick, look sick.

_Okay, I really don't think this was one of my best chapters, so, sorry. But I wanted to get it out, and here it is. It's a bit shorter than the other ones I think, sorry again. I am going to go and edit it now though._

_I have made a decision how to get the story in. As with the books, I am planning on having this only span about a week… but that would make only about seven to nine-ish (depending on how long I do decide) chapters. Do you think I should make the story go on longer?_

_This is bearing in mind that I will probably do a sequel either way, just not right after I've finished this._

_Anonymous Review__ and people I can't PM Replies_

_Kristin – thank you (: and it's okay, I couldn't resist myself ;] x_

_Wq – thanks , I thought it was a bit better too. Unfortunately, I didn't think this one was! I will continue though (: _

_DreamStarWriter – sorry I didn't reply to you the first time, I forgot I couldn't PM you. Thank youu , and sorry I took so long! Haha, thanks for the great rating :) sorry the length disappointed you ;)_

_Natalie – thanks, I'm glad you thought so!_

_Itissixoclock – aww thanks, I hope I do (: and I always try and do a disclaimer at the top, because where would we be without meg? ;)_

_Jonica – thank you, that does mean a lot because I was worried (: I hope this one was okay!_

_Aroojx – thanks, I'm glad (:_

_Eowin – wow, thank you! That does mean a lot, and I will, don't worry!_

_Thanks again for all your reviews, I love reading all of them (: Tell me if I missed you out or didn't reply!_

_Love Ellen_

_X x x x_

_**PS. Going on vacation on sat, don't know if I'll get another chap out by then. Possibly get one out during vacation, but if not, this may be the last you'll hear from me for 2weeks! Sorry!**_


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